Now We Are Met Again
by Mistress of the Darkwood
Summary: 18th century pirate meets 24th century justice and a very old mate. Has Jack Sparrow met his match? Crossover with Highlander set in the Star Trek timeline. A Bloodties series story.
1. Chapter 1

Notes & Disclaimers: Finally, three years later, the trilogy is done. This will teach me to never call anything a trilogy ever again! I'm really quite fond of this one, so I hope you enjoy it. That being said, hopefully, it stands by itself enough that you can read this and understand what's going on even if you've never read the preceding two stories.

I've desperately wanted to write a story with Jack in it since PotC came out, so this is it. But definitely expect the good Captain to make future appearances! There are adventures afoot. My launching point was a short story my co-writer in this universe wrote, titled 'Drink Up' and you can find it here: http/ title is from a favourite traditional Scots song of mine, 'Laddie Lie Near Me', specifically the Connie Dover version on the album, "Wishing Well". You can see the lyrics here: http/ithidrial. don't own anyone but Triona, Stephanie, and varied ship's crew -- like that's a surprise. Methos, LaCroix, Jack Sparrow; none of them are mine. Too damn bad too!

A sequel to "When Did Forever Die?" which can be found on my archive: http/ is rated around a PG13.

* * *

'Now We Are Met Again'

c. 2006

Part One

"I don't care, Captain! Do what you have to, and get my damn ship back! Is that clear?" Triona MacAlpine, Defense Minister of the Imladrin Planetary Union, commanded, glaring at the captain of the Sparta through the view screen from the command chair of her flagship, the Scotia.

"We're doing our best, ma'am. But the Alqualondë is one of the fastest ships..." Captain Montrose began to explain, fiddling distractedly at one of the small silver buttons that ran up his green uniform jacket in a triple row.

She cut him off. "I know how fast she is, Captain! I designed it!" Taking a deep calming breath, she paused. She knew Montrose was doing his best, but damn it all, the man just couldn't seem to think outside the box. Sometimes it was hard to believe he'd captained a ship in the Royal Navy in the days of sail -- Jack Aubrey, he was not. But the Immortal was a solid and reliable commander, even if he seemed to find the actions of his much younger superior baffling at times. "Whoever took it hasn't had time to familiarize themselves with the ship's operating system. That means we have an edge - for now. Speed isn't the only way to take down your prey."

"Ma'am?"

Triona brought up a holographic display of the space the Sparta - and her stolen ship - were currently in. "There's a small debris field just inside the edge of this nebula." She toggled the controls, highlighting the area for Captain Montrose. "See? Right there."

"You think that's where he'll take her?" He peered at the display as if he were looking through spectacles. Triona had always thought he looked a little like a middle-aged Benjamin Franklin, so his expression completed the mental image.

"I would." Triona nodded, snapping off the holodisplay. She tugged at the banded collar of her jacket in irritation. She'd forgotten it was slightly too tight, and it was driving her crazy. "You only have to get close enough to transmit the override signal. Once you've done that, we've got them. They won't have time to figure out a way around the systems to get her started again." She straightened. "We'll be at your coordinates in one hour. You have your orders, Captain."

"Aye, ma'am!"

Dismissing the Captain, she ordered the communications officer to end transmission. Methos, who until now, had been standing behind the command area, moved forward. He was the only one on the command deck not in the dark opal green Imladrin Spacefleet uniform jacket and forest green pants. He was however dressed slightly more formally than was his usual habit, in an unadorned dark blue long sleeved tunic, black pants and boots.

Putting a light hand on her shoulder, he asked quietly, "Why are you taking this so personally? We've had ships pirated before. It's not the first time, and it won't be the last."

"Because it is personal this time," she said through clenched teeth. "I've had enough! The Orion Syndicate has tried to have me killed, attacked our trade routes and outer colonies, and I'm sick of it!"

"But you have good commanders whose job it is to deal with situations like this," he countered.

She shook her head. Methos had never really understood her emotional connection to her ships. Considering she didn't really understand herself sometimes, that wasn't too surprising, she guessed. "This isn't just any ship," she said quietly, glaring at him when he rolled his eyes. "Damn it, I mean it! I'm not talking about the years my team and I have put into designing it. I'm talking about the technology on her. There are innovations in the engine design alone that makes it more valuable than this cruiser!"

"You're telling me that your oversized pleasure yacht is more important than the flagship of the Imladrin fleet?" Triona bristled at 'oversized pleasure yacht', and would have erupted if not for being on the bridge. At her look of complete indignation, Methos couldn't restrain the laughter he'd been trying very hard to hold in.

"Oh, very funny." Triona turned away, pointedly ignoring her still laughing husband as she stood. "Commodore Arnisen, you have the bridge. Keep me informed of our status."

"Yes, ma'am," the tall, willowy redhead said smartly as she took the command chair vacated by Triona. Arianna Arnisen, one of Triona's most trusted and accomplished officers, was amongst a number of vampires that served in the Imladrin fleet. Margaretta Stamford, a vampire family member of Triona's - a 'granddaughter' of her own Master, Lucien LaCroix -- had brought her across just prior to WWIII. Arianna's husband, an Immortal, commanded a regiment of IPU marines on Imladris's Artatama colony.

Still chuckling quietly to himself, Methos followed Triona off the bridge, leaving the pursuit in the Commodore's very capable hands.

* * *

Triona gazed fondly at the holopic of her daughter Lucia that sat on the desk of her office on the Scotia. It had been taken just a few weeks before on the beach of their island home. The baby's intensely blue eyes, framed by red curls, looked up at her. It had been nearly a year since her birth, and this had been the first time Triona had been off planet since then.

Methos pulled her back against him, saying softly into her ear, "She's fine." The oldest Immortal had far more experience with babies than his wife did, having been married dozens of times over the millennia to widows with children. He was much more carefree than his wife was when it came to child rearing.

"I know she is, but I still miss her." She turned in his arms, looking up at him. "I'm sure Lucien is spoiling her rotten with me not there to curb his enthusiasm."

"Not to mention her aunts and the entire household staff."

"Look who's talking!"

"Me? Are you implying I spoil the child?"

"No, not implying." Triona leaned up, kissing him. "You're just an old softie," she whispered. It was true. Lucia had Methos wrapped around her little finger, and she didn't even know it yet.

Before Methos could respond, the comm whistled for attention. Commodore Arnisen's disembodied voice issued from hidden speakers, "Minister, we've reached the Sparta's coordinates, and Captain Montrose reports he has picked up the Alqualondë on sensors."

"Excellent, Commodore!" Triona replied with a hint of predatory anticipation in her voice, smoothing her long jacket. 'I'll come to the bridge shortly." She looked at Methos with a glint in her eye. "Whoever it is that took my ship is going to very sorry."

* * *

A few minutes later, Triona was once again in the command chair of the Scotia, Methos leaning negligently against the back, propped up with one elbow. She sat quietly as she digested Captain Montrose's report, tapping one booted foot against the base of her chair. When he was done, she said, "Very good, Captain. You have the situation under control. I leave the capture of the Alqualondë in your very capable hands."

Captain Montrose snapped to attention. "I am honoured by your trust in me, ma'am."

Triona firmly pushed away all mental images of Benjamin Franklin, suppressing a smile. "Not at all, Captain. It's why I have good people under my command after all." She knew Methos was smirking behind her. "MacAlpine out."

One hour passed, and then another, as the Sparta played cat-and-mouse with the unknown captor of the Alqualondë. Finally Triona's patience was rewarded as she listened to the audio coming from the Sparta. "To those on board the Alqualondë, this is ISV Sparta, your engines are nonfunctional, and your shields are down. Prepare to be boarded."

There was no response from the Alqualondë.

"Life signs?" Triona asked.

"Ten in total, ma'am. Seven humanoid, one Andorian, two Romulan," replied the security officer.

The Sparta hailed the Alqualondë once more with similar result.

"Open a channel to Captain Montrose," Triona ordered. "Captain, prepare a boarding party and await my signal." She turned to Commodore Arnisen. "They're armed and cornered, and I'd prefer them unable to fight back before we send our people in there."

"Agreed, Minister." Arnisen nodded. "What do you have in mind?"

Going to the science station, she pondered a moment before entering a series of commands into the terminal. "I've rerouted the energy conduit to the Alqualondë's shielding, and reversed the polarity. When I initiate, the shielding will act like a stun blast from a phaser, rendering the pirates unconscious." She paused a moment, before adding, "I think."

"You think?" Methos asked.

Triona galloped her fingers across the surface of the science station terminal. "It might kill them." Then she looked up. "But either way, it'll solve the immediate problem," she declared coolly.

Arnisen nodded, accepting her superior's statement without blinking an eye. "And once we have the ship secured?"

"Beam them to the brig on the Sparta - and secure them in separate cells. Secure the Alqualondë and bring it into our docking bay."

Arnisen nodded her understanding and proceeded to convey Triona's orders to the crew. "We're all ready here," she told the Imladrin Defense Minister. "And the Sparta awaits your signal."

"In five... four... three... two... one. Initiating sequence." Triona pressed the touchpad. "Report," she snapped out.

"Life signs are now dormant," the Scotia's science officer replied.

"Captain Montrose, board the Alqualondë," Commodore Arnisen ordered.


	2. Chapter 2

Part Two

It was good to be home, she thought, as the shimmer of the transporter beam enfolding her faded away. Triona had decided to give her recovered ship a thorough going over and had spent a few extra days running through ship's systems before flying her home. Methos had gone on ahead on the Scotia. If given a choice, he always preferred to travel in a 'real' ship as opposed to one of Triona's 'tin cans'.

She realized it was the first time she was coming home from a mission with her child waiting for her. It was a new feeling, and it added another layer of happy expectation to her homecoming. Triona walked up the path to the home she shared with Methos and their daughter Lucia on an island in the Popcorn Archipelago, one of many archipelagos in the Vermilion Sea on their home planet of Imladris. Only the light of three of Imladris' four moons - Moria, Ithilien, and Lorien -- lit her way, a few hours before dawn. The shadow of the house stretched in front of her, a dim light coming from one of the windows the only illumination.

It had been nine months since Lucia's birth on Earth at their family's home in the mountains of Montana. A few months later, she and Methos had brought the baby home to Imladris, to live in the house he had built for Triona during their estrangement. It had been one of the happiest times in her nearly four centuries, and she had relished every moment. Finally, after years of discord between them, Triona felt that they had turned to a new chapter in their lives together. She knew how close she'd come to losing it all, and said a prayer of thanks every day that she had her marriage back.

Reaching the top of the path, she lightly climbed the short flight of steps to the door. As quietly as possible, she entered, practically tiptoeing down the hall to the nursery. A night-light cast a warm glow over the room as she made her way to the crib her daughter lay sleeping in. Gently, so as not to wake her, Triona rested her hand on Lucia's back, reassuring herself that all was well. Just as quietly, she backed out of the room, giving her sleeping daughter one last look before softly pulling the door to.

Deciding she didn't want to wake Methos up at this ungodly hour, Triona made her way to the opposite end of the house and her study. Sinking into the worn leather chair behind the desk, she accessed reports from her department heads, catching up on the mundane and boring details of being the Imladrin Defense Minister. She'd only been gone ten days, but the number of reports in the queue made it seem like she'd been gone months instead. But it had been worth it! Not only had she recovered her stolen prototype, but had captured the miscreants who'd taken it. They were now all safely locked away under the watchful eye of her cousin Stephanie, head of Imladrin Security, on the Moria moon.

Sighing, Triona stood, stretching. To hell with not waking Methos up. "I'll make it up to him," she said to herself, smiling.

* * *

"How about some fresh air?" Methos asked, entering the cozy sitting room that looked out onto the deck and the ocean beyond.

"Hmmm?" Triona queried absently, not looking up from the datapad she was staring at intently.

He flopped down next to her on the sofa, lifting her legs over his jean clad ones as he sat. "A walk, a stroll, a constitutional," he supplied helpfully, smirking as he stroked her bare legs under the skirt of the of the crimson Aldebaran silk dress she was wearing.

She peered at him from over the top of the handheld computer device. "Very amusing." Triona allowed herself to be momentarily distracted by how green his eyes were today. He should wear lavender more often, she thought absently, noting he was finally wearing the shirt she'd bought for him on Pacifica four years ago.

It was late in the afternoon, and she had just put Lucia down for a nap. Considering she hadn't gotten any sleep after waking Methos up earlier, she was thinking that a nap didn't sound like too bad an idea. But she'd decided that researching those that had stolen her ship was a better use of her time - especially the ringleader.

"They're not going anywhere, you know," Methos said, bringing her attention back to the matter at hand, gesturing at the datapad and the information he knew she perusing. "And isn't that what you have a staff for?" he asked for what must have been the thousandth time that year.

"Mmm-hmm, I know, I know. But I want to see this one through. Especially as the ringleader is an Immortal."

"Is he indeed? Now that's interesting," he allowed.

"I've been trying to see if we have anything on him, but so many Watcher records were lost during the War, that I'm not having much luck."

"What do you know so far?"

"Only current information, I'm afraid. He's been a busy boy, let me tell you." She looked down at her datapad, and began to read aloud from it. "He's wanted by the Romulan and Klingon Empires, not to mention the Cardassians, the Ferrengi, and the Federation to boot. Let's see: piracy, smuggling, theft, espionage, arson, impersonating a Starfleet captain, impersonating a Romulan Legate, tax evasion..." Triona paused. "We could fund our treasury on the rewards being offered for his capture alone!"

"And does this criminal wunderkind have a name?" Methos asked curiously.

"He has several aliases, but currently he's using Robin Jackson." She looked at him. "Ring any bells?"

He shook his head slowly. "None that come to mind. Let me take a look," he said, extending his hand as Triona passed him the datapad. A look of disbelief crossed his face. "Pirate!" he exclaimed.

Cocking an eyebrow, she said, "I think we've established that."

"No, no, I mean he's an actual pirate. As in a 'Yo Ho Ho', 'Avast, Me Hearties', and 'Shiver Me Timbers', pirate!" Seeing her look of confusion, he added, "You've got Captain Jack Sparrow sitting in your brig!"

Triona digested the revelation. "Now isn't that something? I'd ask for his autograph if I didn't want him shot," she said wryly.

"Fan?"

"Let's just say that when I was a little girl, I loved all things pirate related. I read about him for a school report and I thought he was quite dashing," she admitted.

"Jack will be thrilled." Triona snorted, taking Methos' comment as sarcasm. "No, really, he will." He elaborated, "Jack was always far too vain about his reputation. It's what got him killed - the first time, at least. He'll be over the moon to know his reputation lives on in the hearts of little girls everywhere."

Triona was now regretting confessing her girlhood crush to her grinning husband. "He would be if anyone were to tell him," she said pointedly. "And no one is, right?"

Methos didn't answer, just kept grinning like a loon while crossing his heart with one finger.

* * *

The next day, Triona decided it was time to meet the legendary Captain Jack Sparrow face to face. She wouldn't admit it to anyone, but part of her was rather tickled at the thought of meeting a real live pirate from the books of her childhood. But she also knew this man was an Immortal, and not to be underestimated or trifled with. If he had the chance to escape, he'd take it. Triona had to make sure she kept at least one move ahead of him. And it wouldn't be easy, if the stories about him were even half-true.

Deciding it would be more secure, she'd arranged to have him and his guards beamed directly into her office on Moria. Stephanie was very good at her job, and between the two of them, Jack Sparrow should be quite harmless while in their custody. Nothing for it then, they'd either thought of all eventualities, or they hadn't. "Commence with prisoner transfer protocol alpha zero two," she said to the computer.

"Confirmed," the ubiquitous female computer voice answered.

A few moments later, the soft whir of a transporter beam coalescing sounded through the large wood paneled office. A moment after that, two Imladrin Planetary Security personnel, along with their prisoner, appeared in the center of the room, six feet from where Triona sat at her cherry-wood desk. She considered her prisoner silently. He wasn't a tall man, but he was arresting nonetheless. His eyes were so dark a brown as to almost seem black with no pupil -- if Triona hadn't known better, she would have thought him to be Betazed. A complexion tanned a deep copper that only someone who had spent most of his life at sea in southern climes would have, high cheekbones, and silky dark brown hair that fell to just above his shoulders. But more than looks; he had a commanding presence -- even in the standard issue hot pink prisoner jumpsuit that he currently wore.

"Leave us," she ordered the guards quietly. Obeying with no comment, they left the room. Rising, she placed her fingertips on the edge of the desk, giving the other remaining occupant of the room her undivided attention. Though not in uniform today, Triona had dressed for the occasion in the twenty-fourth century version of the power suit: a long charcoal gray tunic styled jacket over a matching skirt that fell to a few inches above her ankle. Vaguely alien styled high-heeled boots of some unknown metallic green leather, which she'd found on her last trip to Romulus, were the only colour in her otherwise stark outfit. On the left breast of her jacket was a pin, the symbol of the Imladrin Planetary Union, an eight pointed platinum star set with a center emerald superimposed over an off center gold ring set at an angle. Her long honey-blonde hair was braided in many plaits and arranged in a complicated intertwining knot, accentuating her vampire pale complexion and high cheekbones.

They considered each other for an unknown space of time, until Triona broke the silence. "Captain Jack Sparrow, I presume?" she asked with a slight smile passing across her face. She walked around her desk, her heels clicking on the slate floor, to where her quarry stood, carefully schooling his expression to one of nonchalance with no reaction to her knowing his true identity.

"I don't believe I've had the pleasure...?" he said with just a touch of an English accent, as she came to stand in front of him.

Again, the slight smile. "Defense Minister MacAlpine." She offered her hand.

"Now that's a cold title for such a lovely woman," he replied, taking her hand in his bound ones, lifting it to brush his lips across her fingers.

Raising her eyebrows and suppressing a smile, Triona gently extricated her hand from his grasp. "I don't think restraints are necessary, do you?" Stepping back, she said, "Computer, release prisoner restraints." A sift snick was heard as the pirate captain's cuffs released, falling to the ground.

Triona walked over to the bar at the far end of the room. "Drink?" she asked, looking over her shoulder at Jack.

"That's very civilised of you," he admitted. "Rum, if you have it," he added.

"Now why doesn't that surprise me?" she asked, bringing him a cut lead crystal tumbler of rum.

"Old habits, love," he said with a grin as he accepted the glass.

"Speaking of old habits - piracy seems to be one you haven't broken."

The man shrugged, tossing back his rum. He didn't immediately answer, seemingly fascinated with the play of light through the prisms of the crystal glass. Finally he said, "Man's got to make a living now, don't he?"

"Some might choose an honest one."

"Honesty is overrated," he shot back.

Triona didn't reply, walking back to the bar and the glass she'd left there. Picking it up, she took a sip, then set it back down on the black marble counter. Behind her, Jack silently retrieved the discarded restraints that had bound his wrists, secreting them under the sleeve of his jumpsuit.

Moving away from the bar, Triona turning, waved a hand at the decanter of rum. "Be my guest."

He stayed where he was. "Just what's your game, milady? This is all very fine and all." He looked around the elegantly appointed office with its nineteenth century antique furniture from Earth and the panoramic view offered by floor to ceiling windows across two thirds of the room. "But I'm your prisoner, and no amount of fine manners and excellent rum changes that, does it?"

"You're a smart man, Jack Sparrow," she said with no hint of mockery. "No it doesn't. I'll admit, I was curious to meet you for myself, the legendary pirate, Captain Jack Sparrow. The man who sacked Nassau port without firing a shot, remembered in story and song."

"And now you have."

"And now I have," she agreed, nodding slightly.

"So what's it to be, love?" he asked, moving closer, setting his now empty glass on an adjacent side table. "Swords at dawn, and may the best Immortal win?" He continued conversationally, "I've no objection, mind. But it will be shame to separate such a lovely face from so pretty a neck."

Triona laughed, absently twisting at a silver bracelet around her left wrist. "Really Captain, I expected better than empty flattery from you."

"And false modesty doesn't become you, lass," he countered. "You know full well that you're a beautiful woman." She merely nodded, this time accepting the compliment. "And I'm quite sincere in my regret - if only we'd met under different circumstances. I'll take no pleasure in killing you."

"I appreciate your concern for my well being, Captain Sparrow. But you underestimate me, and you greatly misunderstand your current situation." She walked over to the windows that overlooked the moon's spaceport, the black plains behind, and in the pink horizon beyond, Imladris itself lay, along with two other of the system's moons. "All that you see beyond this glass was won with the blood and sweat of me and mine; this moon, the planet it orbits, and many other systems beyond; independent and autonomous of the Federation. Torn from the ashes of Earth after the War. Earlier, we spoke of old habits - do you honestly believe that the Game would have any place here? It has no place in the Imladrin Planetary Union." The light bantering was gone, replaced by the steely defense minister's cool tones.

Still the deep brown eyes were unreadable. Triona had to admire his composure.

"Then not swords at dawn." He shook his head slightly. "Then to what purpose do you keep me here?"

"You will be bound over for trial on the charge of piracy, amongst others. And we do have the traditional sentence here for that crime," she explained. The pirate paled at that. "Since no one was killed during the commission of your crime, I intend to ask the prosecutor to not seek the maximum sentence. But you can expect to spend many decades ahead on a prison colony, where you can contemplate an honest living upon your release."

"Do you think so?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"I know so, Captain Sparrow."

"You underestimate me, love."

In that moment, two things happened. Jack made his move, using the restraints he'd palmed earlier as a weapon. But mere seconds ahead of him, Triona deliberately snapped the bracelet she'd up to now been fiddling with. Bands of energy coalesced around her prisoner, immobilizing him.

As the beam of the transporter bore him away, he heard her say quietly, "No, I didn't, Captain Sparrow."


	3. Chapter 3

Part Three

Leaning against the wall outside a high security cell, arms crossed, Methos waited for the inevitable reappearance of its current inmate. The cell had both force fields and bars. With the prisoners held here, Imladrin security took no chances. The familiar whine of a transporter sounded, followed by his Immortal buzz, depositing the pirate captain in the cell, though a bit sooner than Methos had expected. Well, he'd lost that bet with Stephanie - he'd been sure that Jack would get through at least one of the backups she and Triona had come up with. "Sloppy, Jack, very sloppy," he said softly. The other man stiffened almost imperceptibly, his hand momentarily reaching for the sword that was no longer there. Then a look of recognition passed over his face, as he realized just who the other Immortal that stood outside his cell was.

"Jack Sparrow, as I live and breath!" Methos said, grinning broadly.

"Fancy meeting you here, Doc Adams. Small galaxy and all that."

"That it is." He pushed away from the wall, walking over to the cell door. "I must say though, I'm a little disappointed. Back in the day, you would have been more of a challenge to put in a cell."

Jack grimaced, looking down at the bright pink prisoner jumpsuit he wore. "I underestimated my opponent. That I'll admit."

Chuckling, Methos shook his head. "You always did have a weakness for a beautiful woman. I would have thought you'd know better by now."

At the mention of Triona, Jack exploded. "That... woman! Blasted bureaucrat, and one of us to boot - it's unnatural! Do you know what she told me? That I'd be spending the next several decades on a godforsaken prison colony! Where's the decency in that, I ask you?" During his diatribe, he'd begun to pace up and down the length of his cell. He whirled back to face Methos. "A prison colony!"

"Oh, I don't know, Jack. Seems fairly decent to me opposed to the alternatives: a few decades in stasis, for example," he paused meaningfully, "or execution."

Jack went back to pacing. "Bloody government lackeys! They never change, be it the blasted Royal Navy or the Federation." He waved a finger, suddenly thoughtful. "Now, whoever it was that snagged me and my crew, now that was a fine piece of work, that I warrant. I admire a captain who could manage such a thing, despite the pickle it puts me in. Such a talent is bloody wasted on a paper pusher like that damned woman!" Jack was once more incensed at the injustice of it all. Taking a deep breath, he waved his hand up at the roof of his cell. "It was such a pretty ship! And the engines... Doc, those engines were like the sound of silk brushing against the skin of a beautiful woman, and the trilithium conversion design something I would have never thought to see," he explained with remembered rapture. "I had to have her! And it's not like the wretched woman doesn't have hundreds of ships that she should want to imprison me for taking just the one." He stopped again, looking at Methos. "It's unreasonable, mate."

"Jack, Jack." Shaking his head ruefully, he sighed. Jack hadn't changed much in the intervening centuries. Some Immortals never adapted well to the changing times, and he was beginning to wonder if his old companion was one of them. "Unreasonable? Perhaps, on the face of it. But I seem to recall you stopping at nothing when you wanted the Pearl back."

"That was different, Doc! That was my ship!" Jack protested.

"Haven't you figured it out yet? That ship you took wasn't just any ship. 'That woman' designed her, it was like her child, and you stole it. You think you thought the Alqualondë was a thing of beauty? How do you think she felt about it? Of course Triona wants to toss you in a dark hole for the foreseeable future - wouldn't you?"

Jack peered at Methos, his eyes mere slits. "You're trying to tell me that that wom... the Minister," he amended, not having missed the other man's familiar use of her first name, "designed that jewel of a ship?"

Methos nodded. "And she's the one who took it back," he noted with more than a touch of pride. As much as he liked to tease his wife about her obsession with her ships, he was very proud of her accomplishments, and taking Jack Sparrow without a shot fired had been a masterful piece of work. She'd come a long way from the serious, uncertain young woman he'd first met in the last decade of the twentieth century. This was truly her time - the age of space travel.

"You don't say?" He nodded, looking as if he were carrying on some sort of internal dialogue. With a sly look, he asked, "You wouldn't happen to have any influence with the lovely Minister, would you, Doc? Convince her that I'm truly and deeply sorry for any trouble my small indiscretion may have caused?"

Snorting with laughter, he shook his head. "Any influence I may have been able to exert on your behalf, Jack, was lost when you tried your little escape attempt. She gave you your chance and you hung yourself."

"She was testing me?" He slammed his fist into the palm of his hand. "Damnable woman!" Glancing at Methos, he offered, "Though I'm sure she has many fine qualities, mate. Not to mention she's very easy on the eyes." He smiled winningly. It was obvious that the Captain wasn't quite sure just what the relationship between his old friend and his current nemesis was and had decided to hedge his bets. He changed tacks. "Benjamin, we two go way back; we sailed together, we were mates! Remember that time in Tortuga? Those two wenches?"

"The twins?"

"The very ones! Now that was a night!"

"I believe it was several nights actually," Methos said wryly. "Absinthe and laudanum always played havoc with my sense of time though."

"But they accentuated the affects of some very pleasurable company, did they not? You can't tell me you don't miss those times, Doc."

"Every now and then," Methos admitted with a slight smile.

Jack pressed his advantage. "You were there after my first death and you told me what I was and what it meant to be Immortal. Can't you at least try and put in a good word for me? For old time's sake?" He held his hands out beseechingly.

"I don't know, Jack. That depends a great deal on how you've been spending your present - and who you've been spending it with." The smile was gone and Methos' eyes were as cold as green marble. "Just how deep are you into the Orion Syndicate?"

Placing his fingers against his chest with a look of surprise and innocence, Jack took a step forward. "Me? The Orion Syndicate? Doc!"

"Come off it, Jack," Methos snapped, not in the mood for games. The Orion Syndicate had tendrils everywhere. Any sort of criminal enterprise there was in the galaxy, they had a piece of the pie. Drugs, weapons, prostitution, gambling, murder for hire, slaves. The Syndicate was powerful enough to put extreme pressure on smaller governments like the Imladrin Planetary Union, up to and including assassination.

"Fine, the truth. The truth is that I'm only as involved as a man in my line of work has no choice than to be." Shaking his head resignedly, he continued, "I keep my head down and do what's needed to avoid their attention, but yes, sometimes I'm forced by circumstances to deal with them."

"I'm sure you are," the other man replied with more than a bit of menace.

"Doc, don't be like this. You know me!"

"I used to."

"I swear, I haven't changed! I don't deal in slaves, never have and never will." Methos' expression hadn't changed. "God's honest truth, mate!"

"And assassination? What about that? I'm sure you know nothing about the attempt on Defense Minister MacAlpine's life at the trade conference two years ago, do you?"

"Assassination? You're balmy! Yes, if she challenged me, I'd kill her if I had to, but assassination? That's not my style! You should know that."

Methos put his hands on the wall to each side if the cell door, his face bare inches from the force field. "Hear me well," he said in a low voice that was now devoid of any warmth or friendship. "I swear to you, Jack, that if you're lying, if I find out that you're up to your eyeballs in the Syndicate, and that you had anything even remotely to do with the attempt on my wife's life, you won't have to worry about that penal colony." The pirate took an involuntary step back at the threat in Methos' eyes. "Because I'll kill you where you stand. Savvy?" Jack nodded silently. "I'm glad we have an understanding." Pushing away from the cell door, Methos gave him one last look before leaving Jack alone to ponder his fate.

* * *

A few hours later, after settling his bet with Stephanie, Methos found Triona with Lucien on the deck of their island home. The red giant sun was setting and sky was a wash of amethyst and ruby light. Triona was sitting on a wicker settee with her legs tucked underneath her, leaning against the ancient vampire's shoulder. Her eyes were dark and heavy, a sure sign that LaCroix had recently fed from her. More than that, the very atmosphere was like a warm blanket of contentment, one that Triona drew him into as she reached out a hand to him. A hand he took, letting her draw him down to sit next to her. Over the centuries, Methos had mostly gotten over his aversion to vampires, or at least, his own particular ones. Ever the pragmatist, he'd learned that there were definite... pleasurable advantages to his relationship with Triona and LaCroix. He leaned in to kiss his wife, a sensation that was both physical and mental coursing through him as her soft lips parted against his. Smiling as he drew away, he thought, definitely advantages.

"What?" she asked. "Care to share?"

Shaking his head slightly, he replied, "It's nothing. I'm just happy to see you."

Looking at him quizzically, she returned his smile, deciding to accept his response - for now at least. "An interesting conversation you had with Captain Sparrow." She grinned. "Security logs, darling," she reminded him at his look of surprise. "I thought you hated the ocean? Monks, chanting, crossing the Atlantic? I'm fairly certain that you've told me that story, oh, at least a few dozen times."

"Indeed, Methos," LaCroix said, amused. "Pirates? I would not have believed it if I had not heard it with my own ears."

"Well, one has to pass the centuries somehow," he said airily, leaning his head back to look at the Roman vampire. "Let's just say it was convenient at the time to go to sea."

"Another one of those angry husbands?" Triona asked, stifling a giggle at Methos' look of long-suffering exasperation. "A really angry one if it drove you to signing up with Captain Sparrow and his band of miscreants!"

"You know, it wasn't always an angry husband!" he protested.

'No, sometimes it was an angry mistress," LaCroix interjected, his eyes alight with amusement.

"Mmm... wasn't that what got me into this," she waved her hand at both men, "in the first place?"

"Are you complaining about the outcome, my dear? LaCroix stroked her throat, making her shiver.

Sighing, she replied, "No, not particularly."

"Glad to hear it," Methos said, kissing her once more.

But she wasn't quite ready to be distracted from the topic at hand, much to the Immortal's frustration. "Speaking of mistresses... twins? Tortuga? And what's this about absinthe and laudanum?"

She really could be like a dog with a bone. Time to more permanently divert her. He shot a pointed look at LaCroix, who smiled in response, taking the hint.

"As entertaining as this is, I hope you both will excuse me. I am attending a performance of the Jovian opera at the Moria Arts Center with Janette this evening and need to be on my way." The vampire gently moved Triona against the back of the settee as he stood. Taking her hand in his, he brushed his lips against her palm. "Till later, child." In an eye blink, he was gone.

'I'm not that easy."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm wise to all your little tricks, you know. You think with Lucien gone, you can distract me so you don't have to tell me about those twins!"

"You're so suspicious," he tsked in mock disapproval.

"Do you deny it?"

"Maybe."

"Maybe? What kind of answer is that?"

"The only one I'm willing to give at the moment," he replied brightly. "But if you're very good, I might be persuaded to give you a more substantive answer," he kissed her once, twice, then slid his lips down to her throat, feeling her tremble at the sensation, before whispering, "later."


	4. Chapter 4

Part Four

It was now full night, one moon fully visible from their bedroom window, shining over the Vermilion Sea below. Propped up on one elbow, he leaned down, brushing his lips across her shoulder. Smiling up at him, her mental essence brushed against his thoughts like gentle waves across the sands. Grinning, he said, "Let the interrogation begin."

"It'll keep," she said quite unexpectedly, rolling away from him. She snagged her kimono from the edge of the bed, putting it on as she crossed the room, stopping in front of the large windows that looked out past the deck to the ocean below.

Methos creased his brow, perplexed. Not at all like her to give up so easily, especially when he was willing to actually assuage her curiosity. Following her path, he stood behind her, smoothing down her tousled hair. Sighing, she leaned into his touch. "Since when?" he said softly against her ear.

Shrugging, she said, "I was just giving you a hard time before. Your tales of twins, hallucinogens, and other varied licentious behavior can remain safely between you and Captain Sparrow.

"Understanding of you," he remarked dryly, grasping her shoulders and turning her around to face him.

"Mmm... well." She shrugged again, not quite meeting his eyes

"And I don't believe it for a second." When she wouldn't look at him, he took her chin between thumb and forefinger, tilting her face up to meet his eyes. "So tell me the real reason," he said peremptorily.

"For god's sake, Methos! Make up your mind! You obviously weren't keen on telling me before, so because I'm trying to be considerate of your feelings, I'm suddenly lying?" She wrenched away from his grasp, pushing past him.

"That's not going to work either." He grabbed her upper arm, stopping her.

Triona's breath exploded in frustration. "What exactly is it that isn't going to work?"

"Trying to start a fight so I'll be distracted. I know all your little tricks too, dearest one," he said smugly. But rather than the reaction he was expecting, she instead slumped her shoulders, not even trying to break free. Methos pulled her against his chest, enfolding her in his embrace. "Remember we agreed that there would be no more secrets?"

She pulled away from him, and this time, he let her go. Though they'd reconciled ten months ago, there were still moments when things didn't quite fit. Years of damage couldn't be wiped away in months. He sighed softly, deciding to give her space. So instead of following her back to the window where she once again stood, he sat on the bed, leaning against the headboard. "I guess I picked the right vantage point for that window." There was no response. "Because you spend so much time looking out of it," he elaborated.

She shook her head, but stayed where she was.

"However, you may have noticed that there's a similar view from right here," he patted the mattress enthusiastically, "not to mention, it's much more comfortable."

"You don't say?" Triona looked over her shoulder, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, yes -- absolutely positive. In fact, I guarantee it." He held out a hand, his voice taking on a wheedling tone, "Money back if you're not completely satisfied!"

Turning, she laughed outright. "You are such goofball!"

"All part of the package." Methos grinned, taking her hand as she walked over to the bed. He drew her down, settling her against him, entwining his legs with hers. "See?"

"Mmm..." She inclined her head to look up at him. "It is fairly comfortable."

"I'm so glad you approve," he said as he leaned down to kiss her. "I know I do."

"Do you? Really?" Triona took his hand in hers, fiddling with his fingers.

He was nonplussed at her question. But before he could respond, she continued in a rush, "Is it enough? Am I enough? The life you've led... I wonder if you aren't bored with me, with our life here, if that's part of why our marriage fell apart."

"Whoa!" Methos twisted around so he could look at her. "Where on earth is this coming from?" Of all the things he expected her to say, this was not on the list. "After 367 years of marriage---"

"368," she interjected.

"368," he amended, rolling his eyes, "year of marriage, you suddenly have the idea that you don't please me?"

"It isn't a sudden idea," she said softly.

"Isn't a sudden..." He shook his head in disbelief.

"I've had a lot of time to think about it. Not just the year we were apart, but the years leading up to it. Despite everything, in a lot of ways, I've led a rather sheltered life." She looked up at him, as if expecting him to interrupt again, but when he didn't, she continued, "I was more interested in science projects than boys when I was a teenager, and then I was suddenly a mother at twenty-four when Stephanie became my ward. The few men that I even attempted to date, Stephanie drove off in short order. And then..." Dropping her eyes she shook her head.

"And then you met LaCroix," he finished.

Nodding, she continued, "And despite, well... everything, I was still sheltered. Lucien treated me like a hothouse flower for the most part, cutting me off from the outside world. The day you walked into my life was like a door opening."

"And here we are." Methos brushed his fingers across her pale cheek. Though getting to 'here' hadn't been easy. So many times along the path had they stumbled that the life they had now was something that shouldn't be. And yet, despite everything, it was.

"Even when I left to deal with, what did you call it, my 'Immortal midlife crisis'? I didn't do anything wild or crazy, I went to Vulcan to study their mental disciplines!"

"I can't say I'm entirely unhappy with that choice." Shrugging, he added, "You know that I'm a possessive man."

"When you and Jack were talking, it reminded me all over again of the life you've led. Remember you told me that there was a part of you that always felt that I didn't really need you? I guess I have a similar little voice that tells me that you'll tire of me one day."

"Believe me when I tell you that sex has never been a part of any problems we've had in the past."

"Are you sure? Because I would understand if you wanted to... I don't know ... travel, like you used to with Lucien, and Jack. Find some diversions on Risa or the Rim worlds. Some place that isn't here."

Methos laughed softly. "My darling, while I appreciate your permission for future infidelity, it isn't necessary, nor," he kissed her firmly, "is it reciprocated. As for diversions, you're quite diverting enough."

"But-"

"No, no buts, Triona! I know how it must sound sometimes, the stories about my past, about Lucien's past, but they're only stories, love; despite what it may seem like. And no brief encounter, no matter how enjoyable it might have been at the time, compares to belonging somewhere, to someone," he brushed his lips across hers, "being loved."

She didn't look like she quite believed him. "You are so young," he said softly. "I know you hate it when Lucien or I tell you so, but it's true." Holding her against him when she would have pulled away, he whispered, "Don't be angry, it wasn't meant as such."

Relenting, she leaned against him. "And you wonder why I think as I do when you persist in telling me how young I am? I'll always be young to you! Do you ever take me seriously, or are you just humouring me?"

"You know better," he said firmly.

"Do I?"

"You should." His lips brushed her cheek. "Don't pout."

"Why not?" she asked acidly. "Isn't that what the young do?"

He laughed outright. "Would it help you to know that I've always taken you far more seriously than when I first met Mac, when he wasn't much older than you are now?" Holding her reassuringly, he said, "It's just a matter of perspective, one you're too young to have yet. A few decades, or a few centuries from now, we'll go off together; you and I, Lucien, perhaps Stephanie, and we'll travel the galaxy as we used to travel Earth in ages past. There's time for everything, Triona, I promise you."

"Even licentious behavior under the influence of varied hallucinogens?"

"Even that, if you wish."

She pulled away gently, turning to face him. "And you promise you'll tell me if you ever need time apart, if it's a year from now or a century from now?"

Reaching out, he stroked her hair. "I swear." Taking her hand, he looked at her intently. "Now you need to tell me something. Just when did you start to doubt yourself? Doubt what we have together?"

Shrugging, with a pensive expression on her face, she chewed at her lower lip. Finally she said, "I think it all coalesced after the alien probe on the Enterprise. All the problems we'd been having... I don't know, in a way it was a catalyst. Not just losing the baby, but having a window into Lucien's past. Actually living it. It just made me feel even more inadequate. I know it hurt you when I didn't tell you what happened, that it was Lucien who had to tell you, but I wasn't sure who I was anymore and I couldn't explain that to you. The only two people that could really understand were Lucien and Jean-Luc, and I thought you'd be angry if I admitted that to you. So instead, I shut you out, and made everything worse."

Shaking his head sadly, he said, "I'm sorry. I let my own fears haunt me."

"What do you mean?"

"Do you know what my first thought was when Lucien told me what happened? It was what if I'd been the one with you on the Enterprise, not LaCroix? What if it had been my past you'd been forced to relive?" Clenching his jaw, he looked up at the ceiling. "And in that state of mind, I assumed that was why you hadn't told me about what happened."

"How stupid am I not to have realized that?" She laid her hands against either side of his face. "And that's why you assumed I was having an affair with Jean-Luc, isn't it?"

"Someone safe and without a past. A decent, honourable man." He said the last bitterly; what a fool he'd been.

"You are such an idiot!" Exasperated, she glared at him, crossing her arms. "Oh yes, I'm so young, blah, blah, blah! Well guess what, oh ancient one? Has it ever occurred to you that you think things to death? Honestly!"

He blinked, absorbing the abrupt change in mood. She'd gone from pensive to irate in less than sixty seconds. "Triona..." he began only to be cut off.

"No! Shut up and listen to me for once in your life," she snapped. "It wasn't you with me that day on the Enterprise. We have enough problems without you borrowing trouble don't you think? Dear god, Methos! Do you think I angst over whatever it was you did 4000 bloody years ago? Do you? Seriously? Well get over yourself, because I don't!"

"Okay," was all he could manage, rather stunned at her words and her sudden anger.

"Okay? Okay? Is that the best you can do?" Shaking her head in disgust, she practically threw herself off the bed, pacing in agitation.

"What exactly were you looking for?" he asked more than a little acerbically.

"Don't even try that sarcastic crap with me, Methos." She pointed at him accusingly. "No more!" Now she was shouting. "You either live with me in the here and now, or you can run off with Jack Sparrow and live in the past, do you hear me?"

"I rather think the entire planet can hear you," he observed dryly.

Picking up a pillow from the chair next to the bed, she hurled it at him. Batting it aside, he held up his hands placatingly. "Please don't hurt me," he said, trying very hard not to laugh at the look of outrage on her face. Getting up, he went to her, taking her hands in his. "You're right," he whispered. At her look of suspicion, he added, "You know what they say: from the mouths of babes." He knew she would have hit him if he hadn't been holding onto her. Methos bit his lips hard, trying to hold back the mirth that threatened to overwhelm him as years of stress and conflict seemed to finally melt away in the absolute irony of the moment.

"Don't you dare laugh at me!"

"I would never!" he protested.

"Lying bastard," she grumbled.

"Hey! No aspersions on my parentage thank you!"

Her lips twitched and she relaxed against him. "Whatever am I going to do with you?"

"Oh, I'm sure I can come up with something," he assured her, his hands roaming her body possessively.

"Mmm-hmmm."

"You don't believe me?" He kissed her before she could reply. "Tomorrow night, we have a date. You, me, Lucien, absinthe and laudanum." Triona looked at him in surprise. "Why put off for decades what we can experience now?"

"The here and now?"

"The here and now," he agreed. "From now on. I promise."

* * *

Triona watched the sun rise behind the bulk of Imladris in the horizon from her vantage point overlooking the ocean on the Ithilien moon. She pulled her green velvet Edwardian styled frock coat a little closer around herself as the early morning wind buffeted at her. She was glad she'd decided to go with boots, a long wool skirt and long sleeved, high-necked blouse in the same style as the coat she wore - it was cold out here on the cliffs!

It had been four days since her interview with Captain Sparrow, and the time had come for him to discover his fate. Right on cue, the whine of the transporter sounded over the crash of the surf, followed quickly by the sensation of another Immortal. Turning, she watched as her guest carefully took in his surroundings before turning his attention to Triona. He was a damned handsome man, she noted; especially clothed in something other than the hot pink prisoner jumpsuit she'd seen him in last. His personal effects had been returned to him, and he was now dressed in a cream shirt and dark brown pants tucked into over-the-knee boots of weathered brown leather. Over it all, he was wearing a coat somewhat similar in style to the one Triona wore, except in a heavy cloth of some alien origin, the deep burgundy colour of which had faded with time and wear.

"Good morning, Captain Sparrow," she greeted him with a friendly smile. "Did you and Benjamin have a nice breakfast?" The pirate had started his day with Methos and breakfast at the main house on Imladris before being transferred to Triona's custody in Ithilien.

Walking towards her, still looking wary, he replied, "I did, Minister, but I haven't quite decided which of you is the good cop, and which the bad."

She laughed. "Be sure and tell me when you figure it out, won't you, Captain?"

A slight smile touched his lips as he joined her at the cliff edge, looking out over the ocean. "It is a beautiful system," he admitted.

"We like it."

Looking at her sidelong, he sighed. "My compliments, Minister, on your taking me and my crew. It was a fine piece of work."

"For a bureaucrat?" she asked, amused.

The pirate captain grimaced a bit at that. "And my apologies for taking your ship."

"Well, I suppose it was something of a compliment - after all, she really is a very pretty ship." Turning to him, she held out her hand. "Apology accepted, Captain Sparrow."

Taking the proffered hand, he raised it to his lips instead of shaking it. "My thanks, Minister."

"I think Triona will do."

Nodding, he said, "Jack."

"So, Jack, I'm sure you're wondering why you're here."

"Doc did mention you had an offer for me that he suggested I consider with the greatest seriousness."

"I do indeed. I'm prepared to accept your parole, no prison colony, no extradition to any of the governments you're currently wanted by."

Now he looked like he was about to walk into a trap. "In exchange for?"

"Why, the next five years of your life, Captain Sparrow." Looking at him gravely, she waved away his incipient protest. "For the next five years, you're mine. You do what I tell you, you go where I say. You tell our intelligence directorate everything, and I do mean everything, you know about the Orion Syndicate. In exchange, at the end of the five years, you'll be granted Imladrin citizenship, a new identity, a fresh start, and a ship of your own."

She could see the thoughts racing through his head as he pondered her offer. Then he looked at her slyly. "The Alqualondë"?"

"Captain Sparrow, you'd have to make me very happy indeed for me to give you that ship!" She laughed. "But points for absolute cheek."

He tilted his head, saying softly, "Oh, I have no doubt I could make you very happy, Triona."

"Jack, Jack," she scolded. "I'd suggest you sideline that particular strategy before you even start. While I'm flattered, do I need to remind you that Benjamin is a very possessive man, and is very good with a sword?"

Jack shook his head slightly, eyes smiling. "Happily married, eh?"

"Quite."

"Ah, well, you can't blame a man for trying, now can you, lass?"

Rolling her eyes, she didn't reply. He really was just like the man from the tales of her childhood. Wenches, rum, and swag. She found the thought rather comforting in an odd sort of way. Beginning to walk, she indicated that Jack follow. "Something else to think about," she said a few minutes later as they crested the rise before them. "Down there." She pointed to a small settlement and harbour below them. Then she directed his gaze farther out to sea. "That's the IS Endeavour," she said as they watched the four masted sailing ship draw closer. "Not a pirate ship, I'm afraid, but a training vessel for our academy cadets."

Jack watched the ship with a professional eye. "They're running too much sail into the wind" he noted. "But she's a lovely vessel." There was a note of longing in his voice that he couldn't entirely mask.

"And she needs a captain." She paused a moment, letting her statement sink in, then, "I was hoping you might know of someone willing to be her master."

For once, he looked totally surprised. "Me?" More than surprised; shocked.

"That was the idea," she commented dryly. "You'd have free reign - as long as it's legal, of course - the crew you want, administering the cadet training program. There's a great deal of this moon left to be explored the old fashioned way. Think of the discoveries you could make!"

"You want me to captain a ship for academy cadets? Your cadets?"

"Oh, come now, Jack! Surely you can't resist the irony of a pirate captain shaping the young minds of Imladris' future?"

He looked down at her, quirking a brow. "You are a very strange woman, Triona."

"You have no idea." She smirked. "I can guarantee you'll never be bored. Where else will you get an offer like that?"

"Five years, you say?" Nodding to himself, he once more looked out to sea. Reaching a decision, he turned to Triona holding out his hand. "We have an accord, Minister."

Taking his hand in a firm grip, she shook it. "To fair sailing, Captain Sparrow, to fair sailing."

End


End file.
